


Blackwood Fabrege

by ElisaReven



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:12:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisaReven/pseuds/ElisaReven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>as Sherlock settles into his new life of marriage and crime solving a new figure threatens them. a sequel to my earlier story <br/>the advantage of caring</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a sequel to The advantage of caring. more chapters to follow!  
> all comments are welcome. 
> 
> thank you x

** Chapter one **

 

A year had passed since the Holmes wedding and Molly was contented in her new life. She would go to work at St Bat’s hospital as a pathologist and Sherlock would run around London with his best friend John Watson solving crimes and mysteries. Of course at times the cases would bring the pair into the morgue and Molly would smile broadly at her husband. Sherlock made sure he was home every night to be with his wife. Marriage suited Sherlock very well and he had been surprised as much as anyone else was.

He was already sitting in his armchair when Molly walked in. he dropped her bag and coat onto the sofa with a huff.

“Long day?” Sherlock asked letting go of his newspaper and letting it fall to the floor beside his chair. Molly nodded. Sherlock beckoned for her to come over to him and she complied sitting herself on to his lap. Molly sunk into her husband’s embrace and nestled her face into his chest. The pair closed their eyes and stayed in their hold. Sherlock thanked the girl in his mind for how she had freed him to feel sentiment. Their cat Toby jumped up curling into a ball on across their laps. Sherlock scratched behind the cat’s ear.  He truly was happy with his life and he was sure he didn’t want it to change.

After a few minutes Sherlock looked at his wife.

“It’s our anniversary tomorrow Molly.”

“Hmm?” she replied dreamy eyed.

“What shall we do for it? Would you like to go for dinner?”

“More public displays of your affection?” she giggled. It had become normal to see her own face in the newspapers or on tele. Since their relationship had become public it was a constant speculation for the gossip mags. Molly enjoyed reading the articles and messages from people wishing them well but would try to ignore those that ridiculed the pair. There were many women who believed very strongly that Molly was not good enough for consulting detective. But whenever Molly became sad Sherlock would kiss her and remind her that she was the one and only woman who mattered in his life. She would take comfort in him each time.

“Molly if I had it in me to shout all my feelings for you the world would have no doubt of it. I have only these times in which to show you my affections outwardly to other people.”

Molly just smiled and pulled herself tighter to him. “I would love to go to dinner with you. I have the next two days off as well.”

“Good, I will ring John and tell him I cannot work on the case with him.” He kissed her head.

“How about we start the celebrations now?” molly questioned him in a sultry tone. Sherlock turned his head and kissed her lips.

“He will not mind taking the time either, he could spend it with his daughter.” Molly kissed him between his words. “he might wish to take the time going over some medical papers.” Toby jumped off of them as molly moved her body round to better kiss him. “His knowledge has been slacking over the last few months.” Sherlock’s hands were moving on his wife as hers began to unbutton his shirt. “Perhaps I have been taking up to much of his time.”

“Sherlock,” molly pulled back from him, “please stop talking about John.”

Sherlock creased up his face reading what his wife wanted all over her face. Standing up and lifting her he moved quickly into the bedroom laying her down. He enjoyed the feel of her dainty fingers curling through his hair. His lips moved down to her collar bone and he nipped it in the way he knew Molly loved. Her body was moving beneath his and she let out encouraging whimpers.  His hands moved down and under Molly’s blouse. He had once implied that Molly’s breasts were inadequate, but he was sure now they were perfect in shape and size. He rubbed them gently, squeezing. One of Molly’s hands drifted slowly down his back, her nails skimming his skin sending a shiver through his body. The urgency of the matter became more apparent as Sherlock’s kisses got deeper and more passionate.

“Woohoo!”

Sherlock dropped his head to Molly’s shoulder his breath staggering.

“Sherlock?” Mrs Hudson’s voice came through the closed door.

“Go away Mrs Hudson!” Sherlock growled, Molly giggled. She slid herself downwards slightly moving her hand to the bulge in Sherlock’s trousers.

“Sherlock dear, there is something you should see!”

“Mrs Hudson I am a little indisposed at the moment.” His fingers curled into balls and he held his breath as molly’s hand slipped into his trousers and took hold of him. He bit down on his lip and closed his eyes.

“Couldn’t you just come-”

“Mrs Hudson will you go away!” Sherlock shouted through rasped breaths.

“Oh well I never, no one ever listens to me.” Mr Hudson grumbled to herself as she wondered back to her own flat. Sherlock smiled down at his laughed wife.

“You Mrs Holmes you are very naughty.” He kissed her tightly again and let the thralls of his passion take over him.

As they laid in the sweaty aftermath of their love Sherlock held on to Molly as she drifted between and awake and snoozing. Curiosity began to take hold of him and slid out of the bed wrapping his blue dressing gown around his naked body. Mrs Hudson was making herself a cucumber sandwich in her kitchen. She jumped at Sherlock’s sudden appearance.

“What did you want Mrs Hudson?”

“Oh it’s not big matter, Sherlock dear. But this arrived this morning.” She pointed to the small ivory box on the kitchen table. Sherlock lifted it up examining every side of it before removing the lid. A highly decorated gold egg was inside much like the one he had received as a wedding gift.

“Who is this from?”

“I don’t know there is a note in the box.”

Sherlock pulled the square of card out and read.

                                    With love

                                    LB

“L B? Do you know anyone with those initials?”

“Only Lisa Bailey but I doubt she sent it to me.”

“Why?”

“She’s been dead for twelve years.” Mrs Hudson took a small bite of her sandwich.

“Yes, well nothing is impossible.” He studied it for a moment, “perhaps you have a secret admirer Mrs Hudson.”

She laughed.

“If you don’t mind I will take this upstairs with me. To study it further.”

The landlady nodded not really paying attention to Sherlock now she was reading the newspapers.

“Oh they are very interested in what you will be doing for your anniversary, dear.”

Sherlock scoffed.

“If you would like to give them a statement, we will be attending a restaurant for dinner.” He bent down and kissed the woman’s forehead before jumping back up the stairs. Molly was fully asleep when he walked back into the bedroom. Sherlock placed the Egg on the shelf beside the one they had gotten a year ago. He put it out of his mind, deciding he would worry about it once his anniversary was over. Sherlock removed his dressing gown and slid back into the bed wrapping his arms around Molly’s slight frame. He drank in the sweet smell of her hair. Molly turned herself so her head rested on Sherlock’s chest her hand coming up to his neck. Relaxing into her Sherlock allowed himself to fall into sleep. He slept a lot more now he was married then he had before. He supposed it was the ease he felt with Molly in his arms that brought him this little piece at night. Though he was Sherlock Holmes and he never stopped thinking. The detective’s dream were filled with his memories, his mind palace seeping into each one. Through his dreams Sherlock was becoming able to flip through evidence easily.

Yet on this night it was not the case that came into his mind. The dream started as a normal day. He wondered about his flat, his wife pottering in the kitchen as she often did. Nothing was out of the ordinary with the little flat but Sherlock couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.  Papers were Strawn around the room, pictures of decorated eggs, Faberge eggs. Sherlock had seen them before, he was sure his mother had one. Yes there it was a picture of the blue and gold egg on his mother’s fireplace. So these pictures are memories he realised. “Sherlock?” molly’s voice was distant as she called from the kitchen. He looked up and saw her. There was a black shadow behind her and it was growing. Fear grabbed Sherlock as he rose to his feet. “Molly?” the shadow had its arms around her and was pulling her backwards. Sherlock darted forward taking hold of his wife and pulled her into him. The shadow dissipated into the background of the kitchen. “Sherlock!” it was a voice he knew too well. He spun and holding tight to Molly’s hand he rushed back to the living room. A gunshot rang out and a scream bellowed he turned just in time to see John fall to the ground a hole in his chest. It was Mrs Hudson screaming. Another shot came from outside the window smashing the glass and silencing the landlady. Sherlock looked on as blood form the two bodies mingled on the carpet. “No!” the television suddenly blinked to life and a news report flashed up with the death of Detective Inspector Lestrade. What was happening? This dream made no sense to him. Sherlock’s phone began to ring in his pocket and he pulled it out, it was his mother. She sobbed into the receiver and Sherlock could only make out a few words, Mycroft, dead, poison. Sherlock couldn’t understand he was spinning around the room glancing at everyone he cared most about. Then he felt it, the hand in his loosened. He turned just in time to see molly’s eyes roll back into her head and collapse. He caught her before she hit the ground. He shook her shoulders with no reaction from her. Sherlock put his hands on her neck and checked for a pulse in her wrist. Nothing. With tears rolling he clutched her limp body to him and rocked. He felt the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder and snapped his eyes open.

He was back in his bed and Molly was sat up next to him. Relief swept over Sherlock and he pulled her into him. His breathing was erratic and his body shook.

“What were you dreaming, Sherlock?” molly asked.

 “Of you,” he noted there were tears on his face and a lump in his throat. “Everyone was dying and then you, oh Molly.” He pulled her into him. “I couldn’t bare it if you died Molly.”

She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his head. “It was just a dream Sherlock, it’s over now.” Her voice waved over him with comfort, he kissed her feeling his terror subside into longing. Molly saw the hunger in his eyes and pulled his face up and laid a kiss on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter two **

 

The restaurant was dimly lit and smelled of the most delicious food Molly had ever smelt. She had never eaten in such lavish places until her marriage to Sherlock Holmes. She had dressed herself in a lavender dress that hugged tight to her torso but a-lined from the hips. Sherlock had given it to her as a birthday gift earlier that year. Molly had left her hair down and simple, she knew that was how Sherlock liked it.

Molly couldn’t understand why she still got so nervous when the pair went out in public. Every time he smiled at her stomach would flutter and the touch of his skin still cause a skip in her heartbeat. She left out a nervous breath. Feeling it Sherlock tightened his grip in his wives hand as they followed the server to the table. He had given them one in the back of the restaurant so they would be more private. Molly was thankful for it, it would be harder for the tabloids to take pictures of them at that table.  Sherlock ordered an expensive bottle of red wine without looking at the menu. She figured he must have been here before and memorised the wine list. He smiled over to his wife.

“Are you happy, Molly?”

“Yes I am, are you?” molly wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt doubt creeping into her. No way did know; there was always doubt. A doubt that Sherlock would come to his senses and leave her.

Sherlock reached across the table and took her hand. “More than I thought possible.”

The wine was brought over for them, Sherlock tasted it and satisfied he allowed the server to pour a glass for Molly and leave it beside them. Molly took a sip and as always found it to be exactly what she wanted to drink. Sherlock enjoyed watching Molly, no matter what she was doing he found all of her movements graceful. Once a few years before he had only thought of the pathologist as a clumsy, mousey girl who had no social skills. How wrong he had been. How blind he made himself to her perfections. He glanced down to her neck at the silver chain hanging there, just above her cleavage was the locket he had given to her at Christmas. The sentiment she felt for him to keep it there fluttered in his heart. His eyes travelled down to her hand wrapped around the wine glass, two rings sat around her finger, one with an emerald set in the princess cut. The memory of his wedding day flittered into his mind and how the bridesmaids had matched the colour of the engagement ring. For a moment he thought of scolding himself for the sense of sentiment in his own mind but when it came to the memories of Molly he wanted everything.

Molly had to admit that she didn’t speak French and so was unable to read the fancy menu, Sherlock read it to her and she marvelled at his fluency. She had known he could speak many languages but had never witnessed it. After a while they ordered their meals from the server.

“I can see you are dying to, tell me about the case you and john are working on.”

Sherlock grinned he would indeed like to explain it all to her, he enjoyed it when she tried to work out the answer herself. There had been many times that the Doctor had come to right conclusion only moments slower than Sherlock himself. It made him happy to know he had married such an intelligent woman.

“No this is not the night for work. You were saying something the other day about your brother, a child was it?”

Molly laughed she knew he hadn’t been listening properly.

“Yes, his third, they have been told it’s going to be a girl.”

“They have two boys already yes?”

Molly nodded. “Yes, they said they were going to keep going till they had a girl so I guess they are happy now.”

“I am sure they are.”

Sherlock fell quiet for a moment seemingly deep in thought. Molly was used him disappearing into his mind that way and used the time to check her phone or nails.

“Which would you prefer?” he spoke so suddenly Molly nearly chocked on the mouthful of wine she had.

“Um . . . I suppose I don’t mind really, as long as they were healthy.”

“My mother found it hard having boys, all boys.” His brow was curved into thought and his eyes were distant.

“What about you? Has Sherlock Holmes ever thought of children?” molly’s question had been said in mocking of him but Sherlock’s face went straight and he looked deep into Molly’s eyes.

“With you Molly I would . . . we should have a whole bushel of them as many as you want.”

Molly wasn’t sure if he was mocking her. But his face was soft.

“Molly contrary to belief my parents were not awful, they kept my brother and I at home much longer than is normal and home schooled us for a time but it was not an altogether horrible experience growing up with them. My brother on the other hand, he was not well he was an awful big brother. I am a hard man to live with I know that and there are not many people who can put up with me. But I know that our children would have the best mother that any child could want.”

Molly didn’t really know how to answer, she was overwhelmed by Sherlock’s response to the subject. She hadn’t even thought about it before. If she was honest with herself she would not have thought he would ever want them. She let out a small giggle as their food was laid in front of them.  Molly tucked in to her plate and enjoyed every mouthful though she couldn’t ignore the niggling headache that was creeping up on her. Sherlock ate all of his savouring the taste of each mouthful. As they ate the pair spoke of other things, their familes; mostly Molly’s family.

“My mother has expressed her longing to have us stay with them for a weekend sometime soon.”

“Oh Sherlock that would be lovely, but only if you want to. I know how eccentric they are. Perhaps they would settle for dinner if we are passing on the way to a romantic weekend getaway.”

“You are wonderful, Molly. My fantastic Molly.”

“Avoiding family gatherings has become an art of mine over the years.” She grinned. The headache was more than a niggle now and she put her hand to her temple.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just a headache, I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want to go home?”

She shook her head, “no it’s fine, I’ll be ok.”

“Maybe a glass of water?” Sherlock signalled to the server and he hurried over with the water. It was ice cold and soothed for Molly for a few seconds each time she sipped. Trying her best to hide the pain she ate her pudding, profiteroles and fresh cream. Sherlock paid with several fifty pound notes, Molly didn’t even ask how much the meal had come to. They climbed into a taxi and held each other in silence. Molly’s head was beginning to pound. She knew it wasn’t the wine she had only had two glasses.

Once inside the flat the two fell into their bed. Sherlock was aware of the pain his wife was feeling and didn’t want her to suffer any longer. He recalled the dream he had the night before of her collapsing in his arms and did not want that to happen. He pulled her body tight to his, her warm back against his chest. He brought one hand up to head and stroked her mousey brown hair smooth until he felt her fall into sleep. Finally able to relax he snuggled closer to her and closed his eyes.

 

The morning sun shone through the window of their little bedroom. Sherlock grumbled at it pulling the sheets over his eyes and sliding closer to his wife. She made a happy moan at his touch and he kissed the back of her head.

“Do you feel better this morning?”

She nodded. “A little, I’m sorry Sherlock I know you had so much planned for us.”

“How would you feel about going for a walk?”

“I think I can suffer through It.” she laughed and Sherlock joined her. The pair got up and showered together before dressing. Molly still kept her floral patterns and knitted cardigans though now her clothing was better fitting to her frame.  No longer feeling like she should cover herself up all the time. As she wasn’t going into work she also left hair down and falling around her shoulders. Sherlock put on his blue suit and an off white dress shirt.

Holding his wife’s hand Sherlock led Molly through the streets of London. There was no reason to the streets he took just a slow ambling that Sherlock had come to appreciate over the last year. Taking walks gave him two pleasures, the company of his wife and the opportunity to reacquaint himself with London. Sherlock prided himself on knowing every inch of the city and it helped him to see it in such a slow pace. They were walking alongside the river Themes, Molly wrapping herself around one of his arms. Molly dint think her life would get any better.

Sherlock’s body grew stiff at her side and Molly turned to see several cameras snapping at them. She berried her face in to him. “Oh god.” She whispered. Some of the photographers were shouting at Sherlock with questions.

“How have you taken to the first year of marriage Mister Holmes?”

And

“What did you buy each other for your first anniversary?”

One of them addressed Molly,

“Can we get a statement from the little woman?”

Sherlock rounded on them and stepped up straightening his back. Molly copied the action and stood to her fullest height; still a good two foot smaller than her husband.

“I have a comment for you all in fact.” Sherlock spoke in a low flat tone. “My wife and I are very happy together. We are healthy and enjoying a private walk. Thank you for your interest in my life.”

With that he turned and they strode away. His phone rang in his pocket. Sherlock pulled it out, saw it was lestrade, clicked it off and shoved it away. Molly looked at him confused.

“No distractions Mrs Holmes.” He bent to kiss her knowing the paparazzi behind them would see it.

Molly’s phone started to tingle in tiny bells she huffed pulling it out. “He wouldn’t call me unless it was important.” She answered it “hello Greg . . . no it’s ok . . . what? Where are they? Thank you Greg?” she turned to Sherlock shock on her face.

“What? What is it Molly?”

“Lilly, she’s in hospital?”

“John’s daughter, we have to go.” He hailed a cab and they jumped in, the driver could see their urgency and sped towards the emergency room.

John Watson was in the waiting room his head in his hands. Sherlock rushed over to him and knelt down in front of his friend.

“Is she ok? What happened?”

John looked up his face streaked with tears.

“I don’t know, Mary is in with her but I couldn’t,” he caught his breath, “she was fine and then . . . oh god Sherlock I had to resuscitate my daughter.”

Molly dropped to the seat beside him and put her arm around John’s shoulder. Rubbing it in a comforting way. Sherlock rose up and started pacing the room. There were a million thoughts running through his head. He had seen how losing a friend had affected John, he couldn’t now imagine the heartbreak of losing his child. He was sure this would break his friend.

“Sherlock sit down.” Molly demanded.

“I can’t I have to do something.”

“There is nothing you can do, Sherlock.” John’s voice was distant.

Sherlock stood still wrapping his coat and arms tight around him body. He was experiencing fear and he didn’t like it. Even in his nightmares nothing ever happened to Lilly; how anything could hurt such a small child.

After what seemed like a life time Mary stepped into the waiting room, her face was streaked with tears she went straight to her husband and let him cuddle her.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked impatiently.

“She’s ok,” Mary nodded her head, “they think she was poisoned. There was a signs of it but they can’t work out what the poison is.”

“Can they obtain a sample?”

“I already thought about that Sherlock, they are having samples sent to Molly’s lab.” She turned to john and told him they should go back in to her. Lilly would be waking up soon. Mary hugged into Sherlock and thanked him and Molly for coming. John shook his hand and they both gave Molly a squeeze.

“Come on we’ll go to the lab and get started on some tests.” Molly tugged on Sherlock’s arm. He nodded and followed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments I appreciate you opinions on the story  
> the pace will pick up a bit in the next chapter.  
> x


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock contemplates the frailty of children.

** Chapter three **

 

The lab was as cold as ever at St Bats but neither Sherlock nor Molly noticed it. Sherlock dropped his coat and scarf onto one of the work tops as Molly put hers in the office and pulled on her lab coat. The samples from the emergency room hadn’t arrived yet but they took to setting up several chemicals for tests. Molly struggled with the purple latex gloves. It had once infuriated Sherlock that she found the act so difficult but now it was endearing to him.

While they waited Sherlock pulled up to stools and Molly took one of them, he held on to her hands and lent in for a kiss. “I’m sorry this wasn’t how the day was supposed to go.”

Molly giggled. “It doesn’t matter, we need to find out what poisoned Lily and you know I don’t mind being here. It’s nice, doing experiments with you.”

“It’s nice doing them with you Mrs Holmes.” There was a boyish grin on his face as he continued to kiss Molly. His eyes flickered open and he stopped his movements on her lips; molly moved back screwing up her face. He was looking over her shoulder to the office. Sherlock marched in and grabbed a gift box from the desk.

“How long has this been here?”

“Oh, I don’t know, it wasn’t there when I left.”

“It’s addressed to you.”

Molly jumped up and took the box from Sherlock’s hands. The ivory box triggered her memory, back to the wedding. She slowly pulled the ribbon off and let the box fall open. It was another Faberge egg. She handed it to Sherlock, “we got one like this for our wedding.” She spoke not really addressing him pulling the card out.

                                    To you both on this gracious of days

                                    Good will on your anniversary

                                    Mr and Mrs Holmes

                                    LB

Sherlock read it over her shoulder. “Mrs Hudson received one this week as well.”

“Who is LB?”

“I don’t know.”  Sherlock’s face was screwed up in confusion. The doors to lab opened and an intern carried in the samples from Lilly. Sherlock took them from him as Molly signed the appropriate forms. She thanked him before he left. With a sigh the two set about their tests. They added drops of the blood works to several different chemicals. They studied it under the microscope. Sherlock was growing increasingly agitated. He couldn’t find anything. He was darting between slides and vials. Throwing one of them across the room he let out a growl. 

“How can there be nothing? We’ve tried everything and there are no detectable signs of.” He sunk down onto the stool, “you don’t think it was just carelessness on their part do you?”

“John and Mary?”

Sherlock nodded.

“I don’t think so, John’s a doctor he would know what to not give his daughter.” Molly put her arm around him, Sherlock’s head rested down on her shoulder.

“I am worried for them, Molly, John has not been himself for some time; he is getting slower. I used to think his mind was growing working with me, he had begun to deduce situations better, his army and medical training were very useful but lately . . . I don’t understand it.”

“He has a child, Sherlock. His mind is on that I guess.”

“Then why would anyone have them if it affected their work?”

“Excuse me but were you not saying just last night that you wanted them?  A whole bushel wasn’t it? You realise I would be out of work for some time if I had a baby?”

“Of course but I would not have to sacrifice my work for it.”

Molly’s hand slid off of him and she turned back to the samples on the counter. Sherlock saw he had made a mistake by saying that.

“I only mean that I would know you would be such a wonderful mother I wouldn’t need to worry. It would be inconvenient to lose you as my pathologist of course but I think your assistant is coming along well.”

“You are so romantic Sherlock.”

“Molly you know I find these conversations hard.”

“Yes. It is fine there are some more tests I can run. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Sherlock stayed sat on the stool discomfort was all over him.

Molly was sat in a toilet cubicle, she was holding a small white stick in her hand. She was trying to fight back the tears in her eyes as she looked down at the positive marks on the test. How could she have been so stupid? Her pill had run out about three months ago and for some reason unknown to her Molly still hadn’t made an appointment with the nurse for another prescription. Her hands shaking she slid the test into her pocket and steadied herself. He was bound to notice she had been crying, even if he didn’t mention it, Sherlock noticed everything. Walking back to the lab she wondered if she should tell him, perhaps she could get rid of the child without him ever knowing. No she couldn’t do that, he would know, somehow he would know. Steeling herself Molly walked through the double doors. Sherlock was looking in the microscope seemingly unaware of her re-entrance.  Molly placed the test on the counter beside him and walked away. She turned her back so as not to see his reaction. Sherlock looked sideways at the test, his heart stopping for a moment.

With a suddenly dry mouth he lifted it up, positive. He let out a long breath standing up. Sherlock didn’t need any words to express his feelings in that moment. He let the test drop back to the counter and moved across the lab to his wife. His arms wrapped around her pulling her into his body. Sherlock kissed the side of her head.

“Sorry to be inconvenient.” Molly was crying again. Sherlock spun her round to face him pressing his lips to hers.

“You are no inconvenience, you are my fantastic Molly Holmes.” He pulled her into him once more and held her in the embrace. He truly was happy in that moment. The fear for his friend’s daughter heightened. “My god what can John be going through?”

They stayed in the embrace for a few minutes, holding his wife was comforting to Sherlock in that moment. They only parted because Sherlock’s phone began to ring again. He lifted it to his ear.

“Lestrade?”

“Sherlock, I think you better come down here, we’ve got something and I think it is meant for you.”

“Ok, where are you?”

“I’ll text you the address.”

The two men hung up their phones.

“Molly I-”

“Go.” She nodded.

 

 

Sherlock arrived at the crime scene, there were several policemen dotted around the area that had been roped off with crime scene tape. Salt Donavon was waiting for him with her arms crossed.

“Hello Freak.” She held with her usual tone of distaste for the detective, “where’s your little sidekick.”

Sherlock would normally take no notice of Donavon’s remarks but a switch flicked inside him, he turned on her, putting his face close to hers. She was taller than he realised. “He is at the hospital where his daughter fights for her life. Do you ever get tired of being insufferably stupid?”

Sally sunk into herself slightly. “I didn’t know I’m sorry.” Sherlock could see that she did regret mentioning John Watson. Without saying anything else she showed Sherlock into the house. A woman was lying on the ground a sheet over her body. Sherlock bent and pulled back the sheet; he looked at the face. He recognised her but couldn’t place it.

“You never actually met her.” Anderson was stood behind him. The forensic scientist had only just got his job back with Scotland Yard.

“Who is she?” Sherlock questioned.

“Her name is Una, she was Moriarty’s first bomb.”

“Why would someone kill her?” Sherlock turned to face him.

“To get your attention.” Lestrade assumed.

“Yes, I would probably go as far as to thinking she has been poisoned with the same substance as the cabby.” Sherlock got to his feet. “How long has she been dead?” he was addressing Anderson. The pair had begun to work well together now even being able to share an occasional joke.

“Looks like three days, maybe there abouts; I’ll have to do a few more tests to be sure.”

“You should find the man, the one who was in the square, he will probably need protection of some kind.” Sherlock spun and was heading out the door hastily.

“Hold on, where are you going?” lestrade shouted after him.

“To St Barts!” Sherlock called back.

Molly wasn’t in the lab when he got there, her coat and bag were still in the office so he figured she must be up with the Watson’s. He sat himself down at the counter and took up some of the slides he had been working on earlier. He remembered the compound makeup of the poison used on his first case with John and set about testing for it. It came up negative. Sherlock was feeling more than frustrated. Even with all his knowledge there appeared to be nothing he could do. He was certain there would be another murder coming his way, the death of Una, the crying lady as his mind palace remembered her; it pried on his mind. Who was this new threat that knew his past so well?

Deciding there was nothing more he could do in the lab Sherlock wondered to the emergency room. He found John and Mary at their daughter’s bedside.

“How is she?” he asked his voice full of sincerity.

“She is fine, we can take her home tomorrow.”

“This might be difficult but is there anything that happened that could have caused this? Anything different in her bed room for example.”

John and Mary looked to each other both trying to recall any change at home. Then it dawned on Mary.

“There was a gift for her birthday, we didn’t think much of it at the time but we were unsure of who gave it to us. The note just said ‘happy birthday LB’.”

“LB? Was it a Faberge?”

“Yes I think it was.”

“I need you to find it for me, bring it to me. We have all received one now and there must be something in it!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one comes out of hospital another goes in.

** Chapter four **

 

Sherlock rushed into 221B and darted into the bedroom he found Molly laying on the bed curled into a ball. He came to her side and out a hand on her.

“Molly you’re hot.”

“Hmm.” Her voice was weak. She tried to open her eyes but could only manage it a slither.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m fine Sherlock, just a headache. I’ll be ok.” She tried to brush him off.

“Have you taken anything for it?” she shook her head. Sherlock went into the kitchen and got some aspirin out of the cupboard. He returned to Molly’s side sitting her up he handed her the pills and glass of water. Molly took them without complaining and lent back against her husband’s chest.

“Did you find anything? At the crime scene I mean?”

“It would appear someone has made me the target of their obsession.”

“A new arch enemy? Well it has been a year since the Moriarty, Moran debacle.” Molly giggled a little. Sherlock was pleased to hear the gentle sound. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything else with the blood works I have no idea what poisoned Lilly.”

“It’s all right, I think I have an idea but it can wait for the moment.”

Molly turned herself, causing a moment of dizziness, “It definitely cannot wait, you need to go do it.” her words were slightly slurred.

“It certainly can wait. My wife needs me right now.” He tucked Molly tighter into him and allowed her to fall asleep in his arms. When her breathing slowed and a light snore came from her Sherlock laid Molly back on the pillows and moved across the room. He lifted up the Faberge egg they had received as a wedding gift and the box that contained Mrs Hudson’s and returned to the living room where he found the new one from Molly’s lab on the coffee table. Sherlock took all three and laid them on the table. He studied each of them in turn. He looked for joins. He used the chemistry kit in the kitchen to test for substances but he could find nothing wrong with them. The stands were made of gold, each of them were slightly different. Sherlock felt completely bemused by the situation and huffing knocked the eggs to the floor.

He decided he would go to bed, perhaps sleep would help him to sort out his thoughts. Taking off his suit he heard Molly stirring under the sheets. Sliding in beside her Sherlock wrapped his arms around her. Molly lifted her head to his and kissed his lips her hand coming up to entwine into his curls. She kept hold of the kiss and deepened it. Sherlock responded turning her onto her back and laying above her. There was nothing Sherlock enjoyed better than letting go of his stoic exterior and being with his wife. Molly was aware of her husband’s naked body and let her hands wonder over it. The light touch shivered through him, he let out a low moan and moved his lips to her collar bone.  Molly returned the moan. Her hand moved down and found him, wrapped around him and stroked. Sherlock’s hand tightened its grip around her hair. Molly smiled as she turned her husband over letting him lay back and moving her kisses down body. She stopped at his hips letting her hand work on him for a moment before slipping her rosey lips about his shaft. Sherlock’s eyes flickered shut and open again enjoying the sensation of being inside her mouth. He looked down and locked eyes with her, this only heightened the situation. His breath was staggering and he knew he was getting close to climax. Sherlock took hold of Molly and pulled her up to him kissing her hard on the lips, letting his hands move down her body. He could feel her excitement instantly as he rubbed his fingers on her. Molly moaned appreciatively her fingernails digging into his skin. Sherlock sat up and pulled Molly on top of him, she used her hand to guide him into her. She lowered herself slowly onto him letting all of him fill her up. They both skipped a breath. She moved on top pf him, as Sherlock ran his lips over her perked breasts. A wildness took over Sherlock and he flipped Molly on to her back pulling her legs up around him and thrusting himself deep into her. He moved quickly on top of her and she moaned with every breath. Sherlock emptied himself into her as Molly let out a scream of ecstasy.

Sherlock fell into his wife’s arms both of them breathing heavily. Sweat dripped off them as they slowly calmed themselves.

“Well you should get frustrated more often Mr Holmes.”  They both giggled and Sherlock moved himself to hold onto her with her back against his chest. They laid there feeling rest fall over them as their bodies relaxed into sleep.

 

The next morning Molly went to work with her usual chipperness and Sherlock pottered around his make shift laboratory. A thought crossed his mind and he picked up his mobile and dialled.

“We should get a dog.” He announced as soon as it was answered.

“Sherlock I don’t live with you anymore.” John stated in a stern voice.

Sherlock stood still and blinked, “of course you don’t, john I meant Molly and I should get a dog, of course.”

John let out a laugh, “ok Sherlock you get a dog.”

“John, I . . . um john how is Lily?”

“She is fine, Sherlock. We are bringing her home today.” John’s voice was full of relief.

“That is good. I don’t think the Faberge has anything to do with this but I would still like to take a look at it if you don’t mind.”

“Sure no problem I’ll drop it over in a bit.”

Sherlock hung up the phone and went down to his landlady’s flat. He explained his want for a dog to her.

“Are you practicing?” she laughed, “oh Sherlock I am so very happy for you. It’s just wonderful.”

“What is Mrs Hudson?”

“The baby. Oh you can’t hide it from me.”

“Yes well about the dog?”

“My friend has some I’ll go pick you one up if you like.”

Sherlock bowed his to her and returned to his own flat. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do next, the prospect of being becoming a father was beginning to pry on his mind.  Looking around the flat he could see many problems with it. Everywhere he looked he could see hazards that he would have to remove before its birth.

He took a deep breath and wondered up to the upstairs bedroom. It was still laid out as John had left it. Sherlock figured they would have to make it a nursery soon. He supposed he should tell his mother and dialled the phone without looking.

It wasn’t his mother that answered.

“Lestrade? I thought I had called . . .” what was happening to him? “Yes, you are outside, why? . . . ok.” He hung walking down the first set of stairs and across to the window in the living room he looked out seeing the inspector and Donavon in the street. He bound down the stairs pulling his coat on. He joined the pair as they looked at the gravitated wall.

“I’m guessing you understand this?” lestrade said knowing Sherlock had approached.

“The I O U has been there for a while, a gift from Moriarty. However this is a new addition.”

The wall had been painted with an elaborate cartoon. A tall woman neatly dressed in white was stood with a clocked man whose face was hidden behind a top head. Both were looking down at a kneeling Sherlock whose hands were painted red as if bathed in blood.

“I suspect they wish to imply all these deaths are my fault inspector.” He continued to study the graffiti taking in each part of it. “Take photos of it lestrade.”

“We already have. We’re having it painted over.” He gestured to several people wearing overalls and holding paint pots.

“I appreciate it. I do not want my wife seeing this.”

Sherlock made to walk away when Sally called him back.

“How is John’s daughter?” Sherlock was taken aback by her attempt at conversation. He nodded.

“She is coming home today.” He announced turning away and returning to his home. Mrs Hudson was tidying about 221B, Sherlock would normally shuffle the woman out but he thought maybe having the place slightly tidier might be a good thing. The Faberge’s had been put back into the bedroom on the shelves.

Sherlock sat down in his armchair and rested his chin in his fingers, something about the graffiti was prying on his mind. The woman standing all in white her face looked so familiar. _The woman!_  What could she have to do with this? Irene Adler had died over a year ago.  Could this be a plot of revenge?

No. he shot down the thought. The woman had no friends only paying customers or those she was black mailing. There was no reason for someone to avenge her. The blood on his hands could have meant her death was on his hands. He supposed in a way it could be thought that. Still it had been her dealings with Moran that had been the woman’s downfall.

Sherlock felt himself falling into his thought process the world around him disappearing when a loud bang through the street outside. Sherlock jumped to his feet and ran over to the window. People were rushing around panicked. The detective realised it had been a gunshot and he knew who had been hurt.

Rushing into Baker Street Sherlock felt his mind explode. Sally was on her phone calling an ambulance whilst knelt over a body. Sherlock threw himself next to her putting his hands on the open wound.

“Lestrade! Lestrade open your eyes!”  

“We need an ambulance! Send all back up to Baker Street! Officer down!”

Lestrade’s white shirt was quickly turning to red, his eyes were blinking and getting slower. Sherlock felt panic rush through him, he wasn’t equipped for this. Where was john when he needed him?

The ambulance arrived quickly and policemen were darting around, armed and searching for the shooter. The paramedics pushed Sherlock and Sally aside as they made light work of lifting the inspector into the vehicle. Sherlock was shaking as he looked down at his hands. The inspector’s blood was covering them. A soft hand came down on his shoulder.

“Hey, this isn’t your fault, Sherlock.”  He turned and found it was Donavon looking up at him. Her sudden caring towards him was unnerving. “Come on you can come to the hospital with me.” Sherlock walked his body in shock, a flash back to a red blanket being wrapped around his shoulders flashed across his mind. The drive was silent, sally passed him some wet wipes for him to clean his hands as much as possible. They rushed into A and E and asked at reception. They were told lestrade was in surgery and they could wait if they wanted to. Sherlock slumped into a chair as Donavon paced in front of him. She was making phone calls to his family. Slowly people started to arrive. Lestrade’s wife and children ran and spoke with Sally.

Molly arrived a few moments after and sat down next to Sherlock holding onto his hand. John followed her. Nobody told the gathered crowd anything for some time. Sherlock starred down at his knees, not sure how he was feeling. Flashes of his dream appeared in his mind. The news report of a shooting.

“Molly, we should get a dog.” He said almost unaware he had spoken.

“Ok, but is this really the time to discuss it?”

“Mrs Hudson is acquiring one from her friend.”

Molly could see the desperation in his face and let her husband talk of the dog knowing it was taking his mind off the emotions inside.

Hours passed and still no news came until a nurse appeared from inside the surgery room.

She spoke to Lestrade’s wife. She then repeated it to sally. The police sergeant came over to John, Sherlock and Molly.

“He is out of surgery but he isn’t . . . he is in a coma. They don’t know if he going to wake up.” She was clearly upset, Sherlock stood and to the amassment of everyone put his arms around Sally. She hugged him back.

When they finally parted she looked up at him, “this isn’t your fault.”

“You have said.” Sherlock took in a few deep breaths. “We will find who done this.”

“Yea we will, Sherlock, you and me right?”

“And John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments, would love to hear your feedback on the story so far :-)


	5. Chapter 5

** Chapter five **

 

London is a city full of strangers. They pass each other every day but never observe. The woman in the oversized clothes, she’s beaten by her husband every night but she smile hides it. The man who walks with his briefcase, the snazzy suit, he tortures animals for fun. Then that lad with the hoody and a skateboard, he volunteers every weekend to help out kids with less money.

Even the person you speak to every day at work, sit across from them; share meals they always have a secret. No one sees it. No one except Sherlock Holmes. As he walks the streets of his beloved city he sees it all. From the sideways glances of a kleptomaniac to the nervous twitches of the introvert. Nothing escapes him, it’s all stored away inside his mind until the moment he needs it.

But on this night Sherlock wasn’t paying attention, he didn’t care about the men who passed him. Or the women who begged on street corners. Sherlock concentrated on the hands holding to his arm. To the woman who walked beside him, his wife, his Molly. And to the man on his right, the exarmy doctor who holds himself still with so much pride. Sherlock was worried if he opened his mind to anything else he would stop walking and be held still with the thought of his inspector in hospital. He didn’t want to think about yet. Sherlock needed to get home first. The emotion he was feeling inside was not something he was accustomed to.

Sherlock felt anger bubble in his chest as they approached 221 Baker Street; his brother was standing umbrella in hand outside the door. Sherlock pushed past him and stormed up to his flat. Molly welcomed him with a small hug.

“I have been informed about the inspector Lestrade. I assume we are unhappy about the matter?”

“A little more than upset Mycroft.” John announced in his sarcastic tone he kept just for the older Holmes.

“No need for that John. I am here for a reason dear brother.”

“To show us all how you’ve lost weight? What has your chief gone on strike?”

“Sherlock.” Molly scolded.

“No I was sent this,” he produced yet another Faberge Egg, green and gold; fairly simple like the others. “And I am sure I no nobody with the initials ‘LB’ a friend of yours I presume from the note.”

Sherlock snatched the note from his brother.

                                    He will be dealt with

                                                LB

“What does it mean?” john asked reading it over Sherlock’s shoulder. Molly had taken the egg from Mycroft and set it down on the table.

“I suspect it means whoever this LB is he obviously believes I am standing in the way. Thank you Mycroft for bringing this to me. I need all of them. If you receive another . . .” he didn’t need to finish the sentence, his brother was already nodding his head agreeing. He turned to Molly.

“It was lovely to see you again, sister-in-law.”

“You too Mycroft.” Molly gave her brother-in-law a tight squeeze, Sherlock narrowed his eyes on them. John said he would show Mycroft out as he was heading that way. Before leaving the doctor left his own egg from Lilly’s bedroom and asked Molly to ring him if they hear anything about Greg.

“You don’t like it do you?” molly asked.

“Hmm?”

“When he hugs me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sherlock sat down at the desk taking a closer look at the two Faberge’s. Molly came up behind him putting her arms round his neck and snuggling her face to his neck.

“Are you jealous Mr Holmes?” She kissed his neck.

“I am jealous of every man you show affection to Mrs Holmes.” He turned and kissed his wife.

“I’m going for a shower, you play with your eggs and I’ll see you in a bit.”

Sherlock nodded absentmindedly. He couldn’t find anything different about the two new eggs they still seemed just as normal as the others. He wondered if maybe they were a distraction from the real problem. The problem, there had been a final problem. For moriarty the final problem had been to stop Sherlock but that hadn’t worked. Could this new threat be using the same train of thought?

“They are going after the people I care about.” He spoke out load. Crime work had been so much easier when he didn’t care about anyone else and then John came along and Sherlock learned to let people in. Sherlock looked down there was still visual traces of Lestrade’s blood on his hands. He got up and went to his bedroom. He wouldn’t sleep but Sherlock wanted to hold his wife in his arms. To find a little comfort, sooth his erratic mind.

 

 

It had been four days and the inspector had still not woken from his coma. Whilst talking with Donavon Sherlock had learned that he had suffered from a collapsed lung during the operation to remove the bullet and had coded on the table. The consulting detective sat at the bedside in the hospital, he was confused by everything. All of it had happened so fast, Lily’s illness, his friend being shot the new affection from Sally Donavon and learning of his wife’s pregnancy. As the thought of the baby floated through his mind Sherlock suddenly remembered that he hadn’t yet told his best friend the news. He rushed out of the hospital and across town to the general practice where John Watson worked. He was about to charge into the consulting room when Mary stopped him.

“He’s with a patient Sherlock, you can’t go in.”

He let out a sigh, and sat down in the waiting room. He seemed to be in waiting rooms more often than ever these days. He didn’t like them, something about so many ill people sitting together, sharing their germs and depressions in almost silence. Always the same set of leaflets and out of date magazines. Sherlock could see no reason as to why anyone would hold the sheets held by another sick person; unless to take it for experiments. Finally the intercom clicked on and john’s voice beckoned Sherlock in.

Sherlock sat down across the desk from his friend. Even john could see the apprehension in Sherlock.

“What is it?” john asked.

“John, I . . . I have something to tell you. As you are aware Molly and I have been married for over a year and through that we have . . . what I mean to say is Molly is . . .”

“Pregnant?”

Sherlock frowned and looked at John who was laughing.

“Yes I know, I am her doctor Sherlock.” He stood up and came around the desk holding out his hand, Sherlock took it. “Congratulations old chap!”

“Thank you.” He stood for a moment, “John, what if . . . what if it turns out like me?”

“Like you?” john’s grin faltered for a moment, “then that child will have only a few friends but they will be the most loyal friends anybody could have, and it’ll have a family that adore it. It might have you for a father Sherlock, but it has Molly for a mother.”

Sherlock nodded.

“And so what if it’s smart? Sometimes we just have to deal with the low blows.”

Sherlock laughed, really laughed. His friend’s joke had been exactly what he needed in that moment. John clapped him on the back.

“You know everyone is going to be there to help you both right? You can babysit Lily some more if you want the practice.”

“Yes it might be an idea. Thank you John.”

Sherlock left the practice grabbing a taxi back to his flat. He couldn’t hear Mrs Hudson in her own flat. He figured she must be out though it was out of her normal schedule. Going up into his living room he could feel something was different.

“Hello Mr Holmes.”

He spun round coming face to face with a tall, slim woman dressed all in white. Her hair was pinned half up and the other half falling down her slender back. Something about her reminded Sherlock of another woman he had once known. She stepped toward him slowly removing her leather gloves.

“Hmm, you are as delicious as they say. I could eat you up.” She circled Sherlock as he stood in the middle of the room. “You must be bored of your little pathologist by now, we could have some fun whilst we’re here, if you?”

“Why are you here?”

“Do you know who I am, Sherlock Holmes?”

“Obviously, you are Lady Blackwood-” then it dawned on him _LB_ “you have been sending us the Eggs?”

“Yes, good deductions.” She laughed, her voice was strong every word pronounced perfectly.

“I’ve been watching you all for some time now. Your little family intrigues me.”

“Why are you here?” Sherlock asked again his mouth straight and tight.

Still Lady Blackwood circled him. “I want you to know it was not me. Who shoot you inspector, I had nothing to do with it. I would never hurt that wonderful man. Not as smart as you but a silver fox. I might have him when he is feeling better.”

She raised an eyebrow seductively at Sherlock, he showed no signs of any emotion to her but simply clasped his hands behind her back.

“Do you like my gifts?”

“My wife is happy with them, yes.”

“Good, I have them all specially made.” She stopped in front of him her face almost as high as his. Sherlock lowered his gaze to hers. “All the money you have and you elect to live in this hollow. Mr Holmes are you sentimental of the place?”

She looked into his eyes, he could smell the distinct perfume wafting from inclined neck. Este lauder. He had once enjoyed the scent.

“Lady Blackwood I live here for the convenience of London. Now if you wouldn’t mind taking your middle child syndrome and leaving my home I would be most grateful.”

“Oh, taking to insults there is the Holmes I was told about. Like I said, the bullet was not my doing, but you will see me again, Mr Holmes.” She was moving away from him towards the stairs. “Enjoy the Faberge eggs.”

Sherlock turned his head away from her direction placing his eyes on to the window. A large white limo appeared in the street; Lady Blackwood slid in to it with a final glance at 221.

Moments later Molly was walking up the stairs, Sherlock took no real notice of her, he had sat himself at the kitchen table and was looking into his microscope. Molly kissed the top of his head as she passed and wondered into the bathroom stepping into the shower.

Sherlock’s eyes moved to the bathroom door, a longing took over him, a hunger gripped him and pushing his chair back he moved to the room. He removed his suit jacket and shirt before he opened the door, and slid out of his shoes. Molly didn’t notice his presence until Sherlock spun her round. He pressed his lips tight against hers. His passion taking over him. His hands were running over Molly’s body, coming up and tangling into her hair. Molly had no time to consider what was happening. Her husband pushed her against the cold tiles, water cascading over them. His lips wondered down her neck to her breasts, he was wasting no time, lifting her legs up around his waist. Sherlock took his wife there in the shower. Molly had never felt as aroused as she did having Sherlock so primal. He was acting completely on instinct and a passion he hadn’t shown before. As if he had no care of her comfort, only for his own pleasure. Molly couldn’t help but scream out as she felt her climax shiver through her whole body. Her nails dug into his back. Her pleasured moans breathed into Sherlock’s ears made him thrust faster inside her and soon he had emptied himself. Panting he allowed Molly to stand, though her legs shook slightly. He looked down at her pushing back the wet locks that stuck to her face. Sherlock smiled at her, returning to his gentler demeanour. The pair washed each other, Sherlock kissing Molly’s shoulders in small intervals. His mind still rushed with the thought of his sudden passion.

They got out the shower wrapped in towels and moved into the bedroom. Molly allowed her hair to stay down, falling about her shoulders in wet tendrils. She bent down to the dresser, pulling a nightgown from the middle draw. Sherlock watched her. His passion reigniting.

He grabbed his wife and turned her kissing her. This time Molly knew what was happening and she moved her husband to the bed. She was enjoying his new aggressive take to sex though she wanted it to last a little longer this time. Sherlock was already hard and Molly lowered herself to her knees.  He took him into her mouth, moving her lips down the shaft. Sherlock enjoyed the sensation but he didn’t let it last long. He grabbed Molly’s shoulders and pulled her up then laid her back against the bed. Sherlock lowered himself on top of her pushing himself into her, gently at first. He found his rhythm and he pounded himself deep into her. One of Sherlock’s hand entangled with Molly’s whilst the other one gripped the sheet beneath her. It didn’t take long for Sherlock to finish and he lay on top of her for a moment. Molly had to catch her breath. A moment passed with them lying together, Sherlock had moved them both to lay properly on the bed. He was placing kisses on Molly’s neck and shoulders. She giggled.

“Are you trying make a twin Sherlock?”

He laughed, “That is not how it works, but we can try.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hospitals always hospitals

** Chapter six **

 

Twenty eight days after being shot, inspector Lestrade was leaving hospital. He had awoken to the sight of his wife and children, a little confused as he hadn’t spoken to the woman for three weeks prior. The doctors had determined there were no further injuries and he could go home. Though he would not be returning to work for some time. Donavon arrived to take him home and Greg was happy to see his co-worker. Expressing that he did not want to live with his wife; not whilst he was recovering at least. Sally had agreed to let him stay at hers for the time being. Outside the hospital Sherlock was waiting, his arms crossed. He stood to his full height as the inspector was wheeled out in a wheelchair. 

“Is that really necessary? You are hardly an invalid Greg.”

The inspector was taken aback for a moment, Sherlock had never remembered his real name before; having usually calling him Gavin. He let out a breathy laugh and stood up out of the chair. Sally went to help him but he waved her off.

“I’ve been told you came rushing to my side.” He grinned.

“Of course I did, you are the only bearable inspector at Scotland Yard it would be an incovienace for you to die.” Sherlock had returned to his stoic posture, not happy that Greg knew of his sentiment.  “I do need you well enough to work, lestrade, training somebody new would take far too much time.”

Greg laughed, “Thanks Sherlock, I’ll get better soon shall I?”

“That would be agreeable.” Sherlock flashed a cheeky grin at the inspector who laughed as he got into sally’s car.

Charlock watched the car disappear around the corner and he went inside the hospital making his way to the lab where he found Molly. He walked in and kissed her cheek before settling himself at his usual microscope. She didn’t ask him what he was up anymore, she would carry on with her own work until he needed help. John followed him soon after and the pair chatted about the case Sherlock was busying himself with. From what Molly could hear it was a fairly menial case, just something to take his mind off everything else. He had told her of Lady Blackwood’s appearance in their home and it had unnerved her slightly. She had requested better locks placed on the house, including Mrs Hudson’s flat.

The two men seemed to have discovered something and Sherlock was Texting Detective Inspector Carter the results. Carter was the only other inspector who would happily take Sherlock’s advice with cases. On a normal day the two men would leave the lab once they had finished with the case but on this day they stayed. Molly didn’t mind them there too much she had a fair bit of paperwork to do and John helped her with it. Sherlock on the other hand had decided he wanted to take a closer look at the cadavers in the morgue. Molly as always indulged him, pulling them out one by one and unzipping the black body bags. He took his magnifying glass out and took a closer look at each one. He stayed longer on one man.

“Molly?” he called her over, “what did you put down for the cause of death?”

She checked her notes, “he isn’t one of mind hold I’ll check on the system.” Molly clicked at the computer and after a few seconds the information popped up on the screen.

“Um, oh . . . um it says affixation. Why what have you found?”

“Here look, it’s obvious.” He was pointing to the head of the body, behind the ear. Molly bent down to look.

“That’s an entrance wound, from a needle?”

Sherlock nodded. Molly made a quick note to the other pathologist about the discovery before returning to John’s side. Sherlock placed a quick kiss on her head.

“You’re the only one worth any salt here.” He meant it as an insult to the other doctors at St Barts more than a compliment to her but she took it.

It had gotten late and they were all readying themselves to leave when Sherlock’s phone started ringing. It was Donavon.

“Sherlock you should come here, we only took our eyes off him for a minute.”

“Text me the details we’ll be there soon.”

All three of them left together and were soon in a taxi winging their way across London.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home Molly?”

“No I’d like to watch both of you work at the crime scene.”

“But you’ve had a long day and you should be resting-”

“She’s pregnant Sherlock not dying.” John butted in.

“Yes but I just want to be sure.”

“Well I am her doctor so, Molly how are you feeling? Any dizziness? Headaches? Nausea?”

Molly shook her head, “no Doctor.”

“Wonderful, she is perfectly healthy, Sherlock.” 

The consulting detective had bow to them and push his own misgivings aside. He knew he would not the fight against his wife and his best friend.

At first when they arrived at the address Donavon had sent them it didn’t look like a crime scene. There were very little police presence in the area. Inside only three uniformed officers were waiting for them. Donavon had apparently sent the rest home.

The room the trio were directed to had been lit up with several lamps; Donavon and Anderson were standing in the middle of the room with the victim. They turned when Sherlock entered.

“It’s him the one who had the bomb strapped to him?” john half asked half stated for Molly’s benefit mostly. Sherlock bent down to the body.

“We know how he died, a gunshot to the head.” Anderson announced.

“I called you for this Sherlock.” Sally was pointing at the wall. Fresh graffiti covered all of the brickwork.  Sherlock rose to standing and stepped up to it. St Bart’s hospital had been painted almost exact, around the bottom several people were looking up to the roof; where a small Sherlock was stood his arms outstretched. There was a gun in hand and another person on the roof. At first Sherlock thought it was moriarty but on closer inspection he realised it was john who had been painted with a gunshot wound to the head.

“What does it mean?” Donavon asked.

A phone started ringing, bells, Molly pulled her mobile from her bag and left the house as she answered it.

“Take into account the prior painting at Baker Street, Sally.” Sherlock’s voice was flat, “they are trying to imply the deaths are my fault and it would seem they believe I am putting John in danger.” He turned and started for the door.

“What should we do?” sally called after him.

Sherlock spun round squaring his shoulders. “Take pictures and pain over it. Have the body sent to St Barts.” With hat Sherlock left the building John close on his heels. Outside Molly was still on the phone, her back to both men. Sherlock called to her from across the street and she turned, beginning to cross the road. A car was speeding towards them. Molly hadn’t seen it. Sherlock had, he called out to her again John did too but it was already too late. Though Molly stopped and turned, the car was out of control. It swerved back and forth hitting Molly and sending her over the top of it. The care screeched to a stop. Sherlock ran over to Molly throwing himself on to his knees. Her eyes were closed and blood covered her face. John tried to pull Sherlock aside.

“Let me check her!”

Sherlock loosened his grip on his wife, john set about checking her over, his phone to his ear as he did so. Donavon and Anderson had come running out behind them when they heard the car.

Sherlock rose to his feet and charged over to the car. The driver was stumbling out of it and Sherlock grabbed him by his coat.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he shouted at the man who was clearly drunk.

“I don’t know, I lost control of the car.”

“Lost control, you are not fit to be driving!” Sherlock was shouting at the top of his voice. His punched the man in the face breaking his jaw instantly. Sally gripped his arm and pulled him back.

“Go be with your wife, Sherlock!” she spoke sternly turning to the driver with a pair of handcuffs in her hand, “I’m arresting you sir.” She read the man his rights before throwing him into her car.

Sherlock dropped to his knees beside molly, taking hold of her hand. John had told him not to move her encase there was damage to her spine.

“John? The baby?”

“Sherlock, I’m sure its fine but we won’t know till we get her to the hospital. You just have to keep calm for both of them.”

Sherlock nodded. John had never seen his friend so worried. Sherlock and John both travelled in the ambulance with molly.

They rushed her in and through to the theatre room. One of the nurses stopped Sherlock from going with her. He stood still starring at the door. Tears were falling down his face as he held his breath. John put a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on Sherlock we can’t stay here lets go sit down.”

“John I-”

John shook his head and lead his friend back out into the waiting room. A few moments later Mary came running in she had Lily in her arms. Seeing Sherlock pacing in the waiting room she handed her daughter to John and stepped up to him. Without saying a word Mary put her arms around him and Sherlock melted into it. He lost all of his composure and allowed Mary to comfort him. She managed to get him to sit down finally. Lily came over putting her tiny hand on Sherlock’s knee. He looked at her, his lip quivered. Lilly’s tiny arms stretched out to her makeshift uncle and he obliged her, lifting the girl into his arms and holding her tight against his chest. He found a sort of ease in holding the child. Sherlock’s breathing slowed to a regular pace. Lily played with his curls and held on to the woollen coat. John turned to his wife and smiled.

“You and Lily astound me, the things you two can do to that man.” He whispered laying a kiss on Mary. Mary smiled.

After an hour a doctor came out to find Sherlock, he stood still holding Lilly in his arms.

“She is out of danger, a mild concussion, a few bumps and bruises. A broken rib, but she is doing well.”

“The baby, doctor what about the baby?” there was panic in Sherlock’s voice.

“We can’t know for sure, not yet. At the moment both are doing well, we got a heartbeat so we are optimistic.”

“But?”

“We have to be real, Mr Holmes. There is always a chance of hidden trauma in this type of accident. We’ll all just have to keep an eye on her for the time being.”

Sherlock nodded, “can I see her?”

The doctor agreed to let Sherlock in but only him, he handed Lily back to Mary.

“We’ll be right here, Sherlock.”

“Thank you John.”

With his hands shaking Sherlock walked into the private room they had put Molly in. she was not conscious yet. Machines beeped around her, fluids and monitors. There were two heart monitors, one for her and one for the baby. It broke Sherlock’ heart to see her all wired up. Very carefully Sherlock drew up and chair and took hold of his wife’s hand.

“Molly, open your eyes. Please I just need you to be ok. Open your eyes and give me that beautiful Molly smile.” Sherlock let his tears fall as he spoke, “the Watson’s are here. Lilly is keen to see you, but you have to be awake for that. Come on Molly. I can’t do this if you- please just wake up.”

The hand Sherlock was holding twitched and tightened around his. Her eyes didn’t open at first, Sherlock reached up and took hold of her face.

Slowly as he watched Molly’s eyes flickered open. She turned her head and smiled at Sherlock. He could see she was tired still. He got to his feet and bent over her laying a kiss on her forehead.

“You are my wonderful Molly, you can rest darling. I love you.”

“I love you.” Molly could only whisper as she was quickly asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the angst in this one.   
> im putting them through a lot in this story.   
> leave comments please!


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter seven. **

 

Sherlock had stayed beside Molly’s bed for the four days she was kept in for observation. The doctor entered the room in the afternoon and took her vitals. He then asked to speak to Sherlock outside the room.

“Ok so I think we’ll send her home today, we’ll give her some meds for the pain, and I think four weeks from work, to repair the broken bones. She’ll need plenty of rest, for now the baby is safe but she has to take it easy. No exertion for a while.” 

“Thank you doctor.”

“I understand Doctor Watson is her GP?”

“And a close friend of mine.”

“Good well I’ve sent him a message, I think daily check-ups would be best for now.”

Sherlock nodded thanked the doctor once more and returned to his wife. He smiled at her.

“Time to go home Mrs Holmes.”

“Good, I hate being a patient. Hospitals are so depressing.”

“We are just waiting for some pain medication and a wheelchair then I will have a taxi take us home.”

Molly stood up out of the bed, her legs shook under her weight slightly but it didn’t last long. Sherlock had to help her dress as her ribs were still in pain. It made a change for Sherlock to be dressing her instead of taking her clothes off. That thought made her laugh and the act caught her breath.

“Owe.”

“Don’t laugh that isn’t good.”

Sherlock insisted on carrying Molly up to the flat and put her on the sofa. He turned on the television to her favourite channel. Mrs Hudson had come up and started preparing tea for everyone. The landlady seemed delighted to help take care of Molly and she fluttered about the place. Molly couldn’t help but let her, she seemed so happy and molly couldn’t bring herself to quell it.

That afternoon john dropped in to check on her. Molly was starting to feel tired again though she tried to hide it from him. Once he was satisfied with her, he and Sherlock talked for a bit about the case. Sherlock was frustrated because he had no leads to be going on with. When he had finished his tea John said goodbye to everyone and left for the night. Sherlock helped Molly walk to the bedroom and climbed into the bed with her. They hadn’t slept together in one bed for almost a week and Sherlock wasn’t sure what he should do. He put his arm out for her to slide closer to him. Molly positioned herself finding the most comfortable place for her aching body was to have her head on his chest. She was comforted by the sound of his beating heart. Sherlock too found that at last there was some comfort. Molly’s breath warmed his skin.

“I never want to sleep in this bed without you again Mrs Holmes.”

Molly inclined her head up to him. “Never is a long time Sherlock.”

“Don’t ever leave me Molly, I don’t think I could take it.”

“I promise, Sherlock; I’ll never leave you.”  

Sherlock wanted to pull her in to him and hold her tight but he was afraid of hurting her. Happy with molly beside him Sherlock fell asleep.

The next morning he woke up to an empty bed. Panic struck him and he darted out into the hall. Molly was in the kitchen and preparing breakfast fort the two of them. She reached into the top cupboard to take out a new jar of jam, the pain in her ribs caught her and she skipped a breath. Sherlock was behind her, taking the jam from her outstretched arm.

“You should be resting, Molly, the doctor said-”

“I’m not an invalid, Sherlock.” She half shouted the words, but stopped taking a breath. Molly knew her husband was going to worry around her until she was better. She looked up at him and smiled, letting Sherlock bend down to kiss her. Accepting that he would not let her continue she sat herself down on the sofa while Sherlock took over making the breakfast. After a few minutes he walked in two cup of tea in his hands to plates of jam toast balancing on his arms. He sat down beside her and Molly took on of the plates and a mug from him. Together they sat and watched the morning news. There had been another shooting in the south of the country and a few MPs were calling for stricter gun laws for the UK.

“Oh please if they do that it will only get worse! Banning the guns isn’t going to stop murders! Idiots if someone wants to kill you they’ll use a knife quicker than a gun. It would be much easier if they made it so more people could learn how to use the weapons and get a greater respect for their use rather than acting like they are just status symbols!”

Molly’s hand rested onto his arm and Sherlock stopped talking realising he had begun to rant. When they had both finished with breakfast their plates were placed on the coffee table and Molly sat back snuggling into Sherlock. His phone rang and for a moment he thought of ignoring it, but Donavon’s number showed on the screen. He answered it, spoke for a moment and then hung up. He turned to Molly.

“The driver who hit you has been sentenced to four years imprisonment this morning.”

Molly wasn’t sure how to react to the news, she had been hurt badly but on finding out that the man was distraught about finding out his wife had been cheating on him she found it hard to hate him. She nodded and took another sip of her tea before resting her head back against his chest.

“I’m going to be so bored, not going to work.”

“But you will get better.”

Sherlock left an hour later after showering and getting dressed.  He wanted to go over all the evidence from the scenes so far. Molly wondered about the flat. She decided it needed to be cleaned, the place had gotten in such a state. It was easy at first, replacing the books to the shelves. Throwing out the month old newspapers. As the day went on Molly became more and happier with the look of the living room. Feeling hunger biting at her stomach Molly went into the kitchen. She looked in the fridge but knew ultimately she would not be able to cook. Letting herself be defeated she grabbed up the take out menus and thumbed through them trying to decide what to get.

“pizza.” She decided. She hadn’t had pizza in ages and in fact she couldn’t remember ever seeing Sherlock eat pizza. She picked up the phone ordered two large peperoni pizzas, a portion of potato wedges; some garlic bread; a pot of ice cream and some extra dips. She knew they wouldn’t eat all of it but Molly enjoyed eating the left over pizza the next day.

Sherlock arrived moments before the pizza and he ran down to pay for it. Bringing it up he confessed to Molly he had only ever eaten pizza once as a child and had found it to be too messy. Molly laughed at him and told him it was tough that was what they were having. If he didn’t want her cooking they would be eating fast food; whatever _she_ wanted. He laughed and agreed that what Molly wanted she would get. It was only after they had finished and he had put the leftovers in the fridge that Sherlock noticed how clean the living room was. He looked at her and frowned. He scolded her and told molly she wasn’t to attempt to clean any of the other rooms. She agreed with him eventually. He had to persuade her on how she could spend her time instead.

“What about that paper you had started writing, it’s the perfect opportunity to finish it. You have all the research it’s just typing it up.”

She couldn’t help but agree.

 

 

Two and a half weeks had passed and Molly had finished her paper. It was a study into the effects on a body when certain chemicals were administered after death. Looking around the house Molly couldn’t help herself. The kitchen was easily cleaned as Mrs Hudson had been up to do most of it. Molly just put the lab equipment in order and tidied the cupboards. The bedroom wasn’t really that untidy, the bed needed changing so she did that and collected up all the dirty washing. She put it into the washing machine and then made herself a little bit of lunch. Just a quick sandwich before going up stairs to John’s old bedroom. It was still set out how he had left it but a thick layer of dust had collected over everything. Molly set about whipping down the surfaces. For the first time she really took in the size of the room. It was massive and took up most of the top floor. There was a space near the back that was walled off with a door. She tried to open it but it was locked. Molly figured she would ask Sherlock about it later. Looking around the room there were still some of John’s things in there. She supposed it was stuff he had prised when he was single but now he was married it didn’t matter to him. After all it had been nearly four years since he had lived in the flat and hadn’t come back for them.

There was a cardboard box on top of the wardrobe and Molly decided she wanted to look at it. Opening the doors she used the shelves inside to climb up and reach for the box. It was hard to pull it down at first. It seemed that something was sticking the box to the wardrobe.

The box suddenly gave and Molly jerked backwards. She and the box tumbled to the floor. She laid there for a minute letting her equilibrium settle down again. Feeling only a little dizzy molly stood up she thought she was ok and quickly pulled the box over to her. It was fairly large and she had to strain to see past it on the stairs. She nearly missed one and Molly had to stop to catch her breath. The dizziness came back then and molly could see little dots of light in front of her eyes. She knew that was her blood pressure rising. Trying to shake off the feeling she took another step

Sherlock got home around four, he had been to another crime scene where the body of a man, another one of his past cases; had been found dead. There had been another painting on the wall this time depicting Sherlock in a graveyard. All the headstones bore the names of his friends. He had left in disgust and frustration. It had never taken him so long to break a case before. Sherlock walked straight into the kitchen not noticing anything different in the hallway.

He screwed up his face when he noticed the kettle was cold. Molly was a creature of habit and would make a cup of tea every day at four, she hadn’t. The tele was on and assuming she was in the living room he went in to question her. No one was there. But there was a box looking like it had been thrown into the room close to the sofa. He stepped over to it something catching his eyes.

“Molly?!” He jumped over to her. Molly can you hear me?” her eyes were flickering between open and closed. Her pulse was erratic and she could barely catch a breath. Molly was lying something, it was hot and red. Sherlock couldn’t breathe as he looked at the blood that was coming from her. Behind him Mrs Hudson was trotting up the stairs. She was singing to herself as she always did but stopped with a gasp when she saw Sherlock knelt over Molly. She quickly rang for an ambulance and tried to calm Sherlock. He kept muttering under his breath, Mrs Hudson couldn’t hear him properly but she was sure it was the periodic table. The paramedics arrived quickly and they took Molly off, allowing Sherlock to ride in the ambulance with her. His mind kept flashing back to the night of the accident. It had been a month ago but it was as if it had happened that day. And now as he sat there holding on to Molly’s hand he knew he was about to lose someone.

At the hospital molly was wheeled into surgery and Sherlock stood in place outside the theatre, his hands clasped behind his back and his face straight. Eventually Molly was taken passed him and into a cubicle. Sherlock followed the gurney and stepped inside as the nurses filtered out leaving just the doctor. He had a sad face as he looked at Sherlock.

“The good news is that your wife is going to be fine, just a bit of bruising. The bad news.” He sighed this was the hardest part of his job, “I’m sorry we did everything we could but we couldn’t save the baby, it was already gone.”

Sherlock nodded without saying a word. The doctor left the room and Sherlock sat down beside Molly. He wouldn’t himself cry, he couldn’t had be strong now. He knew that Molly was going to be heartbroken. He knew it was his fault. If he had just left her alone. All those years ago if he hadn’t got her involved with his faked death, if he hadn’t stayed at her flat afterwards and let his emotions take over him. If he had just left her alone. Then Molly wouldn’t have been kidnapped, shot, run over and now she had lost her child. It was because of him and he knew it. Something inside Sherlock shut down then and he sat in silence beside his wife’s bed.

At times Sherlock would hear other people coming in and out of the room, nurses were checking her vitals and John and Mary came to visit. Lilly had come with them and tried to get onto Sherlock’s lap. He just stood up and left the room until the Watson’s had gone home. He didn’t even answer when John attempted to talk to him. Lestrade came to visit as well and let Sherlock know he was going back to work in a few days. Just light duties to start with. Somewhere in the back of his mind Sherlock had heard Greg, though he continued to stare out of the window. Even when Molly woke up he didn’t say anything. Sherlock moved to the chair beside her bed and he took hold of her hand as Molly cried. But he didn’t comfort her, he didn’t kiss her forehead or hold her tight. He just sat next to her. Molly found more comfort in John and Mary’s arms than her husbands.

When it was time for her to go home john was there to help, Sherlock just walked beside them. He followed the two of them into the flat and sat down in his chair folding his arms so his hands were pressed together in a prayer position in front of his face. He wasn’t praying, it was simply the most comfortable way for him to sit.

Molly stayed in the bedroom curled up under the sheets and cried. At times Mrs Hudson would come up and try to get them both to eat. She had more success with Molly than with Sherlock. Molly was even attempting to move around the flat and had managed to have a shower. Her hair wrapped in a towel and a bathrobe tied around her she looked at her husband. He was sat in his chair staring into nothing.

“Sherlock?” she called to him, he didn’t move or acknowledge her. Feeling apprehensive molly moved forward crouching down beside the chair. She put her hand on his arm.

“Sherlock, I-” he had moved his arm quickly and knocked her to the ground. For a moment she thought she saw him panic, but the stoic look came back quickly. Molly let herself cry all she wanted was for her husband to hold her. Perhaps this was what Sherlock had always been and she had been fooling herself for so long. Feeling shunned Molly returned to the bedroom. She heard Sherlock go up to the spare bedroom and shut the door.

Between fits of tears Molly was able to fall asleep. One time when she was some in between the two states she heard the doorbell down stairs and Mrs Hudson rush to answer it. Her footsteps padding up to Molly and she handed her a small ivory box. Molly didn’t want to open it yet so she pushed it onto the bedside table and turned over. The landlady gave her shoulder a rub and left again.

Upstairs Sherlock was on the floor, his back against the wall and his legs drawn up to his chest. His head was hanging down but still he did not cry. He shame for pushing Molly away. But he had to do it. Now was the best time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting a bit darker now.   
> leave comments and let me know what you think please.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock cannot deal with their loss. molly stands by her promise.

** Chapter eight. **

 

Sherlock ventured down stairs seeing his wife in the kitchen she was making a cup of tea. Well she was stirring the tea in the cup as she looked out of the window. A part of Sherlock, (a rather large part) wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. But he had made up his mind. He cleared his throat to get her attention. Molly turned to him a little surprised of the intended interaction. Her face was sad, her eyes red from crying. She looked up at him and for a moment there was doubt in Sherlock’s mind.

“I have decided I want you to leave. I am done with this experiment.” He knew that word would cut into molly, “it was fun but I am done with it now. Gather up your things and leave. I don’t care where you go just go.”

Molly had to stop herself from bursting to a flood of tears right there.

“Why are you saying this? You can’t. I don’t. Sherlock.”

“I want you to go.” He tried to ignore the pain in her face. “You were nothing more than a distraction. You are impeding my work now. It is time for you to leave.”

“But Sherlock I . . . um . . . sorry I . . . thought . . . I just”

Oh there was his stammering Molly, he had forgotten how much he had loved how nervous she was around him. No he couldn’t do that he had to focus.

“Get your things and go.”

Molly closed her eyes, letting just one tear fall. Her face fell now and she approached him. Sherlock watched not knowing what she was going to do. Her hand swept across his face and it stung. He supposed he should have seen that coming.

“I made you a promise Sherlock. That I would never leave you. I intend to keep that promise.”

Sherlock spun round pushing his arm out so it would crash through the lab equipment on the table. Molly jumped and let out a squeak as the glass smashed around her.

“I DON’T WANT YOU HERE!” he shouted with his back to her.

Molly didn’t say anything else. She turned and went towards the bedroom. Mrs Hudson had come running up the stairs and the noise. She saw Molly disappear into the bedroom slamming the door behind her. The landlady turned to Sherlock.

“Do not come up here anymore Mrs Hudson. You are my land lady not my housekeeper as you are inclined to remind me. You are by law to give me at least 24 hours notice before entering the property. You will abide by it from here on.”

“I don’t know who you think you are young man but I will not be spoken to in such a way.” She spun and darted down the stairs. Lifting her phone instantly ringing through to John.

John Watson was at work and could find no way of getting out of his heavy work load at the practice until later that night. He told Mrs Hudson not worry and he would send someone round.

Mycroft was at 221B within in the hour and he came up the stairs in his usual sarcastic way.

“Brother? I would have come earlier to give my condolences.”

“Keep them to yourself Mycroft I haven’t the use of them.” Sherlock didn’t look at his brother but stayed in his chair.

Mycroft sat in the armchair opposite his brother and looked at him.

“How long ago did you sleep?” Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, “or ate anything.”

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment.

“What are you doing little brother?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

“You have suffered a great lose, mummy is wanting to come visit you. She believes you need her at this time. I have put her off for now.”

Sherlock drew in a long breath twisting his mouth in distaste. Mycroft got up out of his seat and moved to the bedroom through the kitchen. Molly was curled in the bed. Mycroft sat down beside her. For a moment Molly believed it was Sherlock coming to comfort her.

“Why don’t you come back to my home, Molly? Just for a time. Until you have recuperated properly.”

Molly turned over and sat up.

“Thank you Mycroft, but I can’t. I made a promise to him. I promised that I would never leave him and I can’t. Not even when he is like this. I wish it was easy to walk away but I can’t, I just can’t.” Mycroft nodded. Molly looked so feeble laying in the bed she was wearing of Sherlock’s shirts, her hair was unbrushed. Mycroft Holmes was not a man for sentiment but in that moment all he wanted was to protect his sister-in-law.  She was after all family and the only woman to have ever softened his brother’s heart. He lent down and planted a small kiss on her forehead.

“If you should need me, Molly, you have my number. Do not hesitate.”

“Thank you.”

Molly let her tears fall again and turned back to her pillow. Mycroft returned to his brother.

“If your intention is to break that woman. Then well done you have succeeded in every way. I do not understand the bond that holds her to you but you should be counting your blessings. One day Sherlock, she will see you for what you are and she will leave. They will all leave and you, brother dear will have nothing and no one. You will become me.” picking up his umbrella Mycroft left the flat.

The next few days went by without incident. Sherlock stayed in the living room and Molly never ventured from the bedroom. Sherlock kept going over his brother’s words. He wanted to do what was best for everyone. He had refused to let john up to see him. Whenever he came to check on Molly Sherlock would lock himself in the upstairs room. John would attempt to get Molly to eat but she would have none of it.

The doctor was scared for his friends. He could see the destruction that was happening to both of them. On many occasions he tried to get Molly to leave but she refused every time.

Once day when Molly felt as though she could cry anymore she got out of bed and left the room. She went in to the kitchen thinking that she might have just a cup of tea. She found Sherlock there in the kitchen. For a moment they both stood looking at each other.

“Why haven’t you left?” Sherlock tried to make his voice hard but it was weak in his throat.

“I told you why.”

“Your promise means nothing because my request meant nothing.”

“No, every promise I have made I meant, it is you who did not mean his promise to me.”

“My promise?” he screwed up his face.

Molly lifted the kettle seeing that it had not long boiled and poured the water into a mug.

“Our wedding day you promised, in sickness and in health. You lied.”

That stung Sherlock, like a knife in his chest. Of course he had meant every word he had said that day. He watched her silence as she made the cup of tea.

“People are getting hurt because they know Me.” he said it before he had realised and Molly turned to face him. “Lestrade was shot. John has been hurt and kidnapped to many times. Lily was poisoned. Those people I had helped they’ve been killed to get to me. And you, you have been hurt so many times.”

The mug flew past his face and drops of the tea burnt his face.

“How sad for you, to have so many people care about you. I feel so sorry for you. Sherlock Holmes, you can shut them all out. All of your friends even your family. You can even treat me this way. Ignore me shout at me do whatever you feel it would take, but I won’t leave. Part of me died, not even a week ago I woke up to find the best part of me dead, the part of me that was you, that baby wasn’t a lie. Its death wasn’t a lie. You don’t care about it, you don’t care about me. Yet I’m staying.” With that molly turned and walked passed him sitting herself on the sofa. Sherlock had watched her, his mouth pulled into a line as he tried to hold back his tears. All the parts of his body ached to hold her but his mind still pulled against it. He stayed stood in the kitchen staring in to the deeps of his own mind.

 

 

Jon Watson knocked on the front door of 221 and Mrs Hudson opened the door.

“I haven’t heard a peep from wither of them since you left yesterday.”

“All right I’ll see what I can do.”

“At least get them to eat. I don’t think either of them have had a morsel in days.”

John nodded walking up the stairs. He found Molly lying on the sofa, she was snoring softly. He was at least pleased to see she had left the bedroom. He checked her pulse quickly frowning. He would have to get her to eat soon. The doctor turned and saw the broken mug and splattered tea. He wondered who had thrown it and hoped it had been Molly.

After looking briefly around for any signs of further violence John found Sherlock in the bedroom. He was sat on the bed with his back to the door. John sat down beside him, seeing that he was holding something in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“Mary had sent it, with some other things.” There was a bag on the floor in front of him. John realised it was the new born clothing his wife had packed up for them.

“Oh Sherlock. Bloody hell Sherlock. You have gotten yourself into a mess.”

“I wanted her to be safe. If we weren’t together if people believed I had no feelings for her.” He stopped chocking back the lump in his throat. “It’s dead, my baby is dead. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with that. John I . . . it wasn’t even born but I loved it. It’s gone like it was never here to begin with. And this person he is trying to get to me through all of you. He is going to keep trying to kill everyone until he finds me or I find him. I don’t know what to do John I’m lost.”

John put a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder.

“The best place to start, is you go in that living room, you take your wife into your arms and you tell that you love her. You tell her that it wasn’t her fault the baby died. Because all the guilt your feeling right now I can guarantee you hers is double. You let her cry into and you tell her how you feel. But most of all to you tell her you still love her. You know if I had done to Mary what you’re doing Molly I would be alone and divorced by now.”

Sherlock looked at his friend there was a tear on John’s face.

“You are not as inept as you think you are Sherlock.” John stood and left the room. He wondered down stairs and into Mrs Hudson’s flat.

Sherlock looked down the baby grow in his hands. He hadn’t realised he was holding it at first. Not until John had come into the room. Feeling completely ashamed of himself Sherlock stood up and walked to the living room. He watched Molly for a moment she was sleeping but it was not peaceful. He moved over to her, very gently he slid himself onto the sofa behind her and wrapped his arms around her. Molly woke up seeing him so close to her and feeling his arms around her.

“Molly, I’m sorry. I love you more than anything.”  

Molly couldn’t talk she started crying into his chest, and Sherlock held her tighter. It broke Sherlock’s heart to have her crying that way and he knew her heart was breaking as well. He bent his neck and placed a kiss on her head.

“It’s my fault, if I had just rested and not tried to get that stupid box.”

“No.” Sherlock stopped her before she could finish the sentence. “This is not your fault. It’s not mine either, it was the man who hit you and he is in jail.”

Molly nodded letting his words comfort her. It had been all she wanted from the moment she had woken up in the hospital. Sherlock felt a part of him begin to repair as he held her body tight to his.

“I love you.” He repeated the words into her hair.

“I love you Sherlock.”

“Perhaps in a year or so we can try again?”

Molly nodded her head. She wasn’t sure if he was saying ti just to sooth her or if he meant it but in that moment it was what she needed to hear.


	9. Chapter 9

** Chapter nine. **

 

Sherlock was on eggshells around Molly for the next few days, there had been so much emotion in the flat. The consulting detective wasn’t sure how to proceed with his wife. Something inside Sherlock had changed. He had never felt the loss of love before not as strongly as he felt it now. In truth he had been so very excited to be a father that knowing the child was gone had broken him. He walked into the bedroom, Molly was standing at the shelf placing a new Faberge egg with the others.

“When did that arrive?” he asked her.

“I can’t remember.” Molly’s voice was distant. She gestured her head to the open box on the bed a note was lying next to it.

                                    My condolences to you both

                                    Lady Blackwood.

She had revealed her identity to Sherlock some time ago. Molly turned to him and frowned.

“What?” Sherlock felt self-conscious whenever she gave him that look.

“I don’t know it just doesn’t seem right. None of us know her, why is she sending us the eggs?”

“She said it was just presents.”

“But why, Sherlock? Why would she send them to us? Why haven’t you questioned it? look.” She was pointing at them.  All the eggs were lined up next to each other. Molly had been swapping their positions for a while. He came up behind her and looked closer. There were letters inscribed into the top of each one. There didn’t seem to be an identifiable word yet. Yet.

“She is trying to tell us something.” Molly stated.

“Yes, oh Molly you are wonderful!” he kissed the top of her head. “She told me, it wasn’t her so she had to know who it was. She has to.”

“You need to find her Sherlock. Before anyone else gets hurt.”

Sherlock turned and rushed out of the room, Molly heard him grab his coat and begin to the descent of the stairs, when he stopped and came back. He ran into the bedroom and took hold of Molly. He planted a kiss on her lips.

“What did I ever do before you Molly?” he smiled down at her and left the room again. Running down the stairs something caught his eye. John’s coat was on the pegs by the door. Sherlock stopped confused, why hadn’t he come up to them? He turned his head slightly towards Mrs Hudson’s flat, the door was open but that wasn’t unusual. He stepped up cautiously.

“Mrs Hudson?!” he called to her. There were clear signs of a struggle in the kitchen. Sherlock’s heart fell, this was too reminiscent of Moran. But he knew she would not be on the rooftop at Barts this time.

“Molly!” he called as he came back out, she was already half way down the steps.

“No.” she gasped understanding the look on his face. Grabbing her mobile from her jeans pocket Molly dialled through to Greg, but the inspector wasn’t answering. Sherlock tried Donavon.

“I haven’t got time for you Sherlock!” she sounded angry and desperate.

“How long has he been missing Sally?”

“A few hours but, there a lot of blood Sherlock!”

“Mrs Hudson and John have been taken as well.”

“Shit. Ok you better get here.”

Sherlock darted up the stairs and grabbed the eggs, he knew eventually they would come in to use. Coming back down the stairs he saw Molly putting on her coat.

“No, no you are not coming.”

“Like hell am I staying here, I can help.”

Sherlock knew better than to argue with her and he hailed a cab for them.

 

John Watson felt pain sear through his eyes and temples as he tried to sit up. He let out an exasperated breath. Once again he had been kidnapped. In truth John was growing a little tired with his best friend’s enemies using him as a tool. There was a quiet whimper behind him and John realised he wasn’t alone.  Turning round he saw his old land lady lying on the floor. He moved closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder. Mrs Hudson jumped slightly but once she saw it was John looking down at her she began to cry.

“Oh john, how could this of happened? Where are we? Are they going to hurt us?”

“Mrs Hudson, don’t worry, you know fore well why they’ve taken and Sherlock will get here before anything to bad happens.” John’s words did calm the older woman and she tried to subdue her tears. The room they were in was dark but looking round John could see another body lying on the far side. He got up and moved over to it. Pulling the body towards him John realised it was Lestrade.

“Greg?” he checked for a pulse and listened to breathing. “He’s alive. Come on Greg open your eyes. Can you hear me?” John’s medical training took over and he was putting Greg’s beaten body into the recovery position. A door opened somewhere in the room illuminating everyone for a moment. A girl was pushed in and she fell to the floor. John rushed over to her. In the dim light he recognised the face.

“Anthea?”

“I told you that wasn’t my real name.” she spat it out like venom.

“Well if you won’t tell me your real one.” John said looking at the cuts on her face. She looked at him narrowing her eyes, then with a huff she gave in.

“Andrea, my real name is Andrea.”

“Do you know why you’re here? Why any of us are here?”

She laughed. “It’s pretty simple. He wants them both. I thought it was just Mycroft but as you’re here I guess he wants Sherlock as well.”

“wonderful.” John helped Andrea across the room to sit next to Mrs Hudson.

“John, they were talking when they brought me here.”

“What did they say?” John looked over from beside Greg.

“It wasn’t much but they have a lot of fire power and lot of well . . . it looked like ingredients for bombs.”

John let a sigh. Why is it always bombs? At least this one wasn’t strapped to him. The doctor’s mind was racing there had to be a way out of this. Surely he wouldn’t have to wait for Sherlock and police to arrive? He looked around him. Then squaring his shoulders he moved round to face Greg. He tapped his face.

“Greg, come on mate.” Slowly the inspector opened his eyes. He was confused. The others quickly explained the situation to him. Greg righted himself, feeling a slight dizziness in his head as he stood up.

“Have you tried the door?”

John frowned and his mouth flattened into a line.

“They’ll probably come in for one of us we can overpower them.”

 

 

Sherlock and molly ran up to Sally Donavon, Mycroft was already standing with her.

“They appear to have Andrea as well.” He announced seeing the confusion on his brother’s face.

“Who is it Mycroft?”

“I believe it is Mr Woodly.”

“What?”

“But didn’t he die in jail a few years ago?” sally asked.

“People have a habit of not actually dying around these two.” Molly announced sarcastically.

Sherlock looked to his brother, a room in his mind opened up and memories flooded back to him. One of Sherlock’s very first cases with Scotland Yard had been the capture of Mr Woodley. He was devious man who had alluded the police for many years. After being fired from a messenger job for Mycroft; he had kidnapped a young girl and forced her to marry him shooting the vicar and several other people during his time on the run. Sherlock had found his hideout very quickly and sent the police in after him. Mr Woodley had announced to everyone in the court that he would rid the world of the Holmes family for ruining his life.

“Why have you brought those?” sally asked looking at the Faberge eggs in Sherlock’s hands.

“Oh, they have letters on them.” he placed all of them on the table there were six of them. Mycroft and Sherlock both put their faces close and studied the letters moving them around.

                        M, S, S, N, G, R

“Messenger!” they said in unison.

“She was trying to warn us.” Sherlock scolded himself for being so slow on the uptake.  

“How is she involved?” Molly couldn’t remember seeing her name in the newspapers when it was reported.

“She was the girl he kidnapped, she was only sixteen when it happened.” Mycroft explained; he turned to his brother. “So you found him last time, ready to do it again brother?”

Sherlock spun round to face his wife. He took hold of her hands and closed his eyes. Molly had become used to this, he would often hold her this way when he went into his mind palace. She had slowly learnt how long she had to stay there. After a while Sherlock would be deep enough to not notice her leaving. Sally and Donavon stayed quiet as the consulting detective searched his mind.

“He was leaving us messages. The paintings.”

Sally grabbed up the files and the pulled out all of the photos. She knew that Sherlock would not need them but everyone else looked at them.

“the first one, it showed me, and Lady Blackwood with another man, Mr Woodley I would presume, he believes himself to be a proper villain.” Sherlock wasn’t addressing anyone, “the second one was St Bart’s hospital” he trailed off his eyes darted about under his eyelids.  Every one waited in silence, though Mycroft would huff loudly every few minutes.

Sherlock’s eyes opened wide, he threw glances at Donavon and Mycroft before running off, pulling Molly along with him. They were all running and Donavon shouted for back up to go with them as they went.

 


	10. Chapter 10

** Chapter ten **

 

“Ok sounds like a good plan, but how do you expect to get out once we’ve knocked them out?” Andrea tilted her head like petulant teenager.

“Can you fire a gun?” Greg asked.

“I work for Mycroft, of course I can.”

“Good right Greg will go first then you Andrea and I’ll cover Mrs Hudson.”

The land lady nudged John. “I will not be covered. My husband ran a cartel if there are enough guns I can take care of myself.”

John smiled at her. There was still so much he didn’t know about the woman he had rented a flat from. “Ok ladies, get over there.”

“I can hear footsteps.” Greg had had his ear pressed against the door. He quickly stood up and pressed himself on the wall so he couldn’t be seen. John stood with his back to the door.

Two men entered, they didn’t bother to flick on the light they could see John standing and were going straight for him. Once they were far enough in Greg moved quickly to subdue the first man as John spun bringing his hands up to do the same to the other. They took the pair out swiftly; John used his medical knowledge and pressed in the man’s throat to knock him out without killing him. Whilst Greg used his street knowledge to take down the first. Once they were both down, the two men checked their pockets taking the hand guns and passing them over to the women. John took hold of the assault rifle at the same time as Greg took the shotgun.

Cautiously they left the darkened room. In their previously arranged order they moved quietly down the hall way.

“Where the hell are we?” Greg asked. Everything around him was so ornate, john looked around but had no answer for him.

“It’s the Holmes mansion.” Andrea announced with a little annoyance in her voice.

“But what about the house we went to for Christmas?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Their country house, they have several smaller properties across England, France and America. Do you know anything about your so called friends?”

Greg shushed them and all five pressed themselves against the wall as they listened to the voices of men round the corner. The inspector peeked around the corner and seeing they were gone he motioned for the others to follow him.

 

 

 

Sherlock had directed Donavon where to drive them and was sat in the back of her car his hand holding tightly on to Molly’s beside him. She was on the phone to trying to reach Mary but the phone continued to ring out. Mycroft was in the front seat and turned to face his brother.

“What is this about Sherlock?”

“Have you not already worked it out for yourself, brother?”

“Indulge me.”

“This is not a vendetta against just me, nor you this is vendetta against all of us.”

“What?” Molly looked up at him.

“I would suspect that Mary is not at home. This Mr Woodley has gathered all of our friends and family to one place, and we are now doing exactly what he wants buy going to their aid. For some reason he wants us all dealt with.”

Molly clenched his hand tighter.

“I understand us but why the others?” Mycroft screwed up his face.

“I don’t know, I can’t figure it out.” Sherlock hissed as he spoke. He was more frustrated than ever before.

Sally pulled the car over outside the grand iron gates. Sherlock hadn’t been back to his childhood home for thirteen years. It held many bad memories for him. Though now the family shows love for each other what the Holmes boys remember was turmoil. The heartbreak, the tears, the violence. Sherlock’s mouth had run dry as he stepped out of the car, still holding tightly to his wife.

“What is it?” she asked him looking up to the worried lines on his face.

“This Mr Woodley has picked a very good setting, I believe my brother is fearful that the memories that will flood back into his mind will hinder him as much as they will hinder me.”  Mycroft looked down at Molly. “This is not a place either of us wish to return to.”

Sally turned to other cars that had pulled behind them. She quickly directed them all to take up positions around the perimeter of the grounds. They weren’t to be seen, though Sherlock was quick to remind them that the people inside already knew of their presence.

“Shall we head in then, dear brother?” Mycroft sighed.

Sherlock turned to Molly, “perhaps you should stay here?”

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m not leaving you now. I know it’s dangerous but we can do it together.”

“I knew you would say that,” for a moment he was silent looking into his wife’s eyes. Letting out a long breath he stood to his full height; still holding onto Molly’s hand he turned to the gates. The five of them walked through the iron bars, and up the long driveway. The gravel crunched beneath their feet. Mycroft made a mental note to change it slabs as soon as possible.

Gunshots rang out from inside the building and they all quickened their pace. Running into the foyer they found several men running into the ball room. They followed them. Greg and John had been restrained with ropes and men holding on to their shoulders as they knelt. The two women were held in the same way but were still standing. Across the room they could see Mary sitting in a chair her daughter Lily was lying in a pram not far from her. Before them all stood Mr Woodley. A tall man with short hair; cut neatly. His back was turned to them all as he spoke with another man, his suit hugged his body perfectly expertly tailored to his frame. When he finished talking he turned to face everyone.

“How lovely that you came here yourself. It was becoming tiresome trying to attain you all.” Mycroft and Sherlock both felt strong hands hit them. They tried to fight, both had been trained in many martial arts but the men they fought against were trained just as well and over powered both men. Sally gave a good fight, hitting out at the men who wrapped their arms around her. No one had a chance to grab Molly she had darted forward to Mary’s side, trying to wake the woman who was bound to the chair. Once the room was subdued and the men had been brought to their knees. Mr Woodley let out a laugh and sat himself into a large chair with an ornate frame.

“What is this about Woodley?” Sherlock hissed out.

“Haven’t you worked it out yet Mr Holmes?”

Sherlock knew that voice, the sultry tones danced into his ears.  Lady Blackwood swept into the room and over to Woodley. They put their arms around each other and kissed.

“What?”

“Oh please, it was never a forced marriage between us, just my parents looking down on his position. How could I marry a messenger boy?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed on the immaculately dressed woman.

“No that isn’t why we are here today?”

“You’re right it’s not. Go on why don’t you and your brother deduce us.”

Mycroft and Sherlock looked to each other and then back to the woman. Her clothes were tight, high fashion and the red colour of the dress brought out the deepness of her olive skin. The brand name heels on her feet were high, all Sherlock could think was how clumsy Molly would be if she wore them. The way her hair was pulled back and curled gave no clues either Holmes. Mycroft lowered his eyes and let out an exasperated breath.  Sherlock knew his brother had nothing and he too was forced to admit his failure. Lady Blackwood laughed. She stepped forward and bent her knees to crouch in front of Sherlock. Taking hold of his chin she tilted his head upwards.

“Look into my eyes, Sherlock can you see it?”

Sherlock stared, the dark eyes stared back. He had seen them before but in a different face. The glint that he remembered sparkled in the woman’s eyes.

“Moriarty?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Yes, my dear brother. Half-brother actually.” She rose up and moved back to her lover’s side.

“He was so very smart, but so very broken. Just like you Sherlock Holmes.”

There was spite in her voice now.

“Of course I want you all dead, you all had a hand in his death.”

“Mary didn’t.” john spoke, “we didn’t even know each other.”

The woman laughed.

“You chose not to know about her past Doctor Watson. What a silly mistake for you.”

Mary was awake now and looked distressed at her husband’s angered face.

“I bet you even you didn’t know Sherlock that James was never going to leave that rooftop alive, even if he hadn’t killed himself. This assassin you have befriended, who you share your Doctor Watson with; she was ready to kill him, one last job for her. Enough money so she wouldn’t have to worry about her new life.”

John looked over to Mary and she gave him a ‘forgive me’ face. She knew he now knew she could have stopped Sherlock’s death, even if it had been fake. John gave her a small back he loved her too much to be angry at her.

“In a way you all had a hand at killing my brother, and now you will all pay for it. And just for good measure, none of you will be leaving.”

Each of them felt a sharp pain in their necks, their bodies weakened, limbs growing heavy. The drugs spread quickly through their bodies. Sherlock was awake enough to see Lady Blackwood tower over him.

“Say good bye to your childhood Sherlock. It’s going to explode in a few minutes.”

Knowing that Sherlock had a high tolerance for drugs Mr Woodley fired a shot into the detective’s chest before he, Lady Blackwood and their men left. The people in the room hadn’t noticed the extra men outside taking out the policemen that had surrounded the house. Sherlock tried to right himself all around him his mind palace was filled with explosives. No it wasn’t his mind palace it was the mansion, the place Sherlock had used for his palace. Pain seared through his chest, this bullet was too close to his previous wound.  The drugs in his body was hindering his movements his eyes were hazing all he could see as his body fell to the ground was Molly’s face, her eyes closed and barely breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a bit shorter than normal, I found it difficult to write....I know my ending but it's hard to get it there!   
> all comments are welcome please let me know what you think of the story!   
> x


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> explosives are not your friend!

** Chapter eleven **

 

A load noise opened Sherlock’s eyes, it was hard for him to breath. The bullet had gone into his lung and he knew it would collapse. The building he laid in was in the same situation… he had no idea how long it would take for another of the bombs to go off. Trying to shake off the drugs that clouded his mind Sherlock sat up, John was beside him.

“John.” His voice was rasped, “John.” The doctor stirred but didn’t wake up, behind him Sherlock heard his brother moving.

“Brother, what do you know about bombs?” my croft asked, his words slurring slightly.

“Not enough, we have to just get out, get them all out.”

“Yes I agree.”

“Start with the Watson’s, Lily.” Mycroft nodded as they both struggled to stand up, he managed to wake John enough for him to help with taking Mary. Sherlock clutched Lily in his arms, trying his best not to bleed on her. Mycroft’s head felt better in the fresh air and he felt clearness coming back to it. He took the child from Sherlock before watching his brother stagger back inside. With the help of a groggy lestrade he reappeared with Mrs Hudson and Andrea.

He had to get back to Molly. He didn’t know how much longer his chest would hold out. Another part of the house exploded and flames were quickly spreading through the corridors. Sherlock turned his head spinning causing him to go off balance for a moment. Smoke was quickly filling his lungs as he found his wife’s body, she was stirring when he reached her. Molly’s eyes widened when she saw Sherlock’s chest. Breathing heavily Sherlock lifted her into his arms and carried her across the ball room. His eyes glanced over the room and saw Sally Donavon still unconscious. He for a fleeting moment he wondered if he should bother coming back for her. But of course once Molly was safe of the house he went back in. there was a third explosion and this time those outside saw part of the building crumble. Sherlock stumbled back into the ballroom. His eyes were half closed and his body heavy. The detective could barely breathe now. He slumped down beside Sally. He put his hand on her and hand shifted.

“Sally, you need to.” She pulled herself on to her knees and looked at Sherlock. “You need to get out now.”

“Yea come on we’ll go together.”

“I can’t,” he tried to take in a breath but it caught in his throat. “I can’t walk, I-I’m too heavy for you to carry.”

“No Greg will hate me if I don’t try.”

Sally stood up unsteady on her feet. Sherlock’s eyes closed as his body gasped for air. His lung had collapsed fully and his chest moved erratically to compensate. Sally tried to lift him, he was right he was heavy for her in the drugged state. She managed to drag him out of the ballroom, the corridor they were in was filled with smoke. Sally could hardly see where she was going. Something shook the house and heat hit sally hard sending her backwards. She let go of Sherlock as her head hit the wall.

 

 

 

Molly watched as the windows smashed with the force of the flames. The realisation that it had been too long since Sherlock had gone back into the house hit Molly like a brick. She got to her feet and started moving towards the house. Greg grabbed her and pulled molly backwards.

“No Sherlock is still in there!”

Mycroft looked up, he was still holding Lily but had one hand on Andrea. She took the child from him, seeing the look on his face. Mycroft stepped over to Molly and put his hand on her face.

“Stay here.”

“No Mycroft!” John shouted after him. But Mycroft didn’t listen he was rushing in to the house, mentally preparing himself for the heat and smoke. Stepping in through the now fallen doors, Mycroft squinted his eyes, he saw sally’s hand first on the floor and rushed over to her. She was already waking up and blinked her eyes at him.

“Sherlock.” She could hardly talk, her throat burned. That was when Mycroft saw his brother. His heart sank as he jumped across to him, flames were licking at the detectives legs. He wasn’t breathing, Mycroft checked for a pulse, it was faint but it was there.

“Miss Donavon can you walk?”

She nodded standing up. Mycroft lifted his brother as if the man weighed nothing and led the way back outside. Molly screamed when she saw him ambulances and more police cars were arriving in the street. Greg had called them as they waited for Mycroft to reappear.

The older of the Holmes brothers fell to his knees when he was clear of the house. Behind him the house shook and rumbled, much of it fell leaving holes in the structure. The force of the final explosion blew over all of them.

Mycroft was holding his brother and pressing hard on the wound that was bleeding heavily. A paramedic rushed up to them making Mycroft let go. Each of them were checked over and taken off in different ambulances to the hospital. Molly was allowed to travel with Sherlock. Tears fell from her eyes as she looked at him, his body looked so weak and feeble, it was small and broken. His suit was ripped and appeared too big for him. The paramedics were having to keep working on him, his lung still was not working properly and Sherlock coded on the stretcher. They rushed him in to the hospital and that was the last Molly saw of him. Another Nurse guided her into a cubicle and sat her on the bed. a doctor came into her and checked her over, telling her that he wanted to keep her in for observations. Molly knew that Mrs Hudson was in the cubicle next to hers and so asked for the curtain to be pulled back. The two women sat together on their beds worried for the man who had saved their lives.

With tears still streaming Molly slowly fell asleep, exhausted from the day.

 

The next morning when she awoke Molly’s head was no longer blurred. There was a doctor beside her bed checking her vitals.

“Doctor, how is my husband?” she asked her voice strained.

On her right side another voice spoke to her.

“He is ok, I’ll take you to see him in a bit if you like?” Mycroft was sat in the chair beside her bed Molly nodded to him. It didn’t take long for the doctor to finish what he was doing and get Molly to sign her discharge papers. When she was dressed again Mycroft led her to another ward and Sherlock’s private room.

Her heart broke when she saw him, his eyes were shut and there were several tubes going in and out of him. John and Mary were sitting by the window and smiled at her. Molly slipped into the chair by the bed and took hold of her husband’s hand.

“Tell me everything John.” She said sternly not taking her eyes from Sherlock. His skin was even paler than normal, a bandage covered the wound, partially hiding his previous scar.

John explained that Sherlock had coded twice more during the operation to remove the bullet and fix his lung. Officially he had been dead for two minutes when he suddenly awoke again. It was the second time that had happened but it still shocked the doctors and nurses in the room. Apparently there was a lot of damage to his throat and lungs from the smoke and his legs had been burned but not too badly; they would heal fairly quickly. The drug that was given to him had thinned his blood and so Sherlock had lost a lot more than normal with the type of gun shot. They were unsure of any internal bleeding yet the doctors stating they would have to wait for him to wake up before they could do any further tests. They did believe he was going to wake up though and reassured John that it was just a case of waiting. Molly didn’t move from his side the rest of the day, slowly the others came and went. Greg and Sally poked their heads in around lunch time and Mrs Hudson gave Sherlock a peck on his forehead before Mycroft and Andrea took her home. John and Mary left around Lunch time. But molly stayed in her seat, holding her husband’s hand.

“How do we always come to this Sherlock? Always one of us in hospital.” Sherlock’s fingers twitched beneath hers, Molly smiled to herself. His eyes were moving rapidly under his eyelids and Molly knew there was a lot going on his mind. She settled herself back in the chair and closed her eyes, not taking her hand from his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again another short one lol i'll try to make them bigger again....  
> comments welcome please!   
> x


End file.
